


I'm not crazy, he's a fRICKING VAMPIRE

by I_Am_Not_A_Robot



Category: The Vampyre - John William Polidori
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted Murder, Broken Promises, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Enemies, Humor, John William Polidori is probably rolling in his grave, M/M, Modern Retelling, Murder, POV First Person, Period-Typical Drama, Vampires, and then..., i don't actually know anything about living as a college student, that's a bad sign isn't it, why is it that humor is immediately followed by murder?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 05:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20148226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Not_A_Robot/pseuds/I_Am_Not_A_Robot
Summary: Locked in his frat house room, Aubrey writes a quick summary of all the stuff he's been through in the past year and some months... in case he doesn't make it through the night.Because of course, he's going to straight up murder Ruthven as soon as he gets out. To HELL with that oath!





	I'm not crazy, he's a fRICKING VAMPIRE

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a joke, I'm sorry

It happened in the middle of a cold winter in London: this dude showed up out of _ nowhere _. Honestly, the most remarkable thing about him was his looks, or more the looks he threw everyone else.

Such an arrogant guy! 

He’d enter a room, glancing around in boredom, as if no one there could capture his attention for more than a second. Why was he even here, if nobody was up to his impossible standards? And then, of course, as soon as a girl with bad rumors surrounding her came up to him - for some reason the girls were all over this stupidly attractive man - he’d ignore her, a barely hidden scoff or sneer on his pale face as he turned. Poor “Lady” Mercer. 

Really, is he _ that _ high above the rest of us? Him and his deadly white, unblemished skin? 

Obviously, this dude happened to have a liking for innocent and _ good _ women, the ones who were held in high esteem. Although, it would soon be revealed why…

No, no, I’m gonna say it right now. He just liked virtuous women because he was an asshole who didn’t care for those who’ve done a few wrongs. I know he’s not clean himself, though. Oh, lord, I know.  
Those red stains on your hands can’t be washed away, Ruthven. You know this, you goddamn heartless _ monster _.

I first saw him at a winter party, one of those themed ones. This time it was some sort of Renaissance thing, I think. But later? Like, 1700s to 1800s. Since it was a costume party, a lot of people threw on their historically-inaccurate outfits and had fun. Everyone was to be referred to as “Lord” or “Lady”, because we all fancied ourselves near royalty in this little escapade. 

Me? Well, I hate to admit it, but yes, I had fun. My parents had recently died, leaving my sister and I a lot of money. I was just finishing up college, and my sister had just got accepted to a prestigious school - she was nearing 18 when this whole mess first started. 

Some friends of friends of mine decided to continue that party tradition left behind by some previous generations of students. I was invited, and I dragged my sister along too. I reckoned it would be good to throw off the grief a little. A few drinks till I felt better, right?

I never got around to drinking more than a glass of normal Cola, though. 

That’s because I saw _ him _ . And I immediately became entranced - he was as enchanting as the snow twirling in the moonlight outside. Him and his historically accurate costume! Sure, I could tell he was a jerk right from the start, for the things I mentioned previously. But because I didn’t know a thing about him, and my imagination has a tendency to run wild, I imagined countless scenarios involving this guy and a hopeless romantic. Perhaps he’d save a damsel in distress. After a while, I thought, he can’t be _ that _ bad, right? In my daydreams he wasn’t, so to some degree, it must be true, right?

He certainly played the part of a fairly decent person. He’d been doing that for centuries, probably. Fricking _ liar _. I’m going to go after him as soon as I escape this prison I’ve been forced to call my room. If I can just learn to pick a lock… 

Wait. It’s getting dark now, which means my frat brothers are gonna get back soon, and they’ll have to open the door to feed me, right? I can push past them and run then. It’s been 11 months and 29 days since the really big problem started. Not much time left, and the truth can come out._ I’ve been counting every minute. _

Back to the story: A year and a month ago, I tried to get to know this guy better. People called him Lord Ruthven at the party; I guess it stuck as a humorous nickname ‘cause it fit so much. (I imagine that if this had all transpired in the true 1700s, he would really be a _ Lord _ .) God, he’s more like Lord Ruth- _ less _. After the party, I hung out with people who hung out with him. I started to hang out with the mysterious beauty myself. Ruthven was so nice to be around! In fact, I began to wonder if we could be friends.

In late spring, I heard he was going on a trip during summer break. 

Like an idiot, I went to talk with him. I stuttered the whole time, probably blushing and tripping over my own feet. “Heard you were planning to travel throughout Europe. Um…er, can I go with you?” I asked, stupidly, _ thoughtlessly _, considering nothing and nobody. I just wanted to escape from all the death that had trailed me recently. 

He stared at me. He stared and his eyes went past me and into my soul. I was uncomfortable. For a second I thought he was gonna laugh - something like mirth _ but darker _flickered in his stunning dead eyes. 

A smile spread over his perfect lips, and he said, “Sure, Aubrey. I’d love to have your company.” 

I could have cried with relief right at that moment. I didn’t look stupid in his eyes! Me, in all my inferiority! I was good enough to travel with him!

We left the next day.  
The Europe tour was very fun at first. Here’s an interesting fact: Ruthven, like me, is incredibly, filthy rich. He’s probably out there right now, buying stupid stuff for my sister and spending tens of thousands on that fake wedding. Evil creep. I swear to God above, as soon as I get my hands on him-

That’s for later. I estimate in an hour the sun will set. My pulse is quick… unlike _ his _. 

I have to resume recounting all that has happened, and right _ now, _ or else it will never be done. I will admit, in the past few months I may or may not have entered such a strong fit of delirium that nothing I said made sense. But now, I feel more sober than ever. My mind is as sharp as the wooden stake I will drive through Ruthven’s heart. In this window of sanity I’m writing this down so that if I shall fail, if I don’t make it through the night, at least I will have something to recount what led me to commit murder. Is it considered murder when the thing dying is not even human?  
Evil, beautiful man that he is. Why did he have to do it? Why did he kill Ianthe? 

Ruthven, if I don’t get around to killing you, and if you read this, probably mocking me in my death right after you rip my throat out or something, probably raising those perfect eyebrows in disgusting bemusement, I want you to know… 

I hate you. More than anything I’ve ever felt, more than anything I’ve ever known before, is this passionate hatred so strong. It’s burns. It could have been love, “Lord” Ruthven, but of course, you had to go and bleed that fairy-like girl dry all those months ago, then fake your own death, threaten me into meek submission that eventually turned into a brief insanity, and then propose to my sister as you most likely plan to warp her sense of morality like you did to so many others. Things could have been better. God, Ruthven, I _ liked _ you. 

I guess this is a good time to talk about when things got bad. I’m not gonna describe every old, crumbling statue I saw, every dinner I spent with him, every bird I heard singing in the morning. 

In Greece I met a girl. Ianthe. 

She was brighter than life, and she reminded me of the fairies that I so often daydream about. Everything, from the blush on her cheeks to the dance in her movements were so full of life that I became _ captivated _. Oh, I loved her, I think. She was the polar opposite of Ruthven. If he was Death, she was Life. Why did I like both?

The locals warned me about the murderer problem they’d been dealing with lately, yet I still took a taxi and went out into the midday alone to go look at some attractions. There was this castle, you see…

Well, that’s not the point. A storm started, and everyone went inside. No taxi would pull over for me! I didn’t even bring an umbrella, because I didn’t expect it would start raining, so I was stuck out there, freezing my butt off and drenched to the bone. 

Obviously I started walking home. On my way, I passed a small grove of trees, and came across a small cabin. There were screams coming from inside. Being the absolute genius that I am, I went inside, thinking_ “Hey, this is a nice place with a nice roof where the rain can’t get through ‘cause it, y’know, has a roof.” _

What did I see once I went inside? At first, nothing. The sun set outside, and lightning isn’t exactly the best lamp, as we all know. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight setting, only to see my pretty friend Ianthe laying there dry, two holes in her neck and blood covering her throat and chest. 

I screamed, and at that moment something knocked me to the ground. I fought blindly - the phone, my _ flashlight _, was knocked out of my hands - but it was no use. My attacker had superhuman strength. Damn you, Lord Ruthven. 

Damn you and your CrossFit. 

He pinned me to the ground, and for a second I thought he might kill me, or maybe he’d, I don’t know, kiss me. 

“No homo?” I whispered into the darkness.

I think he choked on his own spit right then. The guy immediately reeled back and fled into the night, a bewildered wheeze the last thing I heard from him for some hours.

Then the fact that there was a dead girl next to me registered, and I started screaming and sobbing, as you do. Someone must’ve heard me, ‘cause the police arrived shortly after. Funny enough, they couldn’t seem to find any fingerprints or hair or _ any clues _ at the crime scene.

If they won't get justice served, I'll do it for them. The day is fading fast. There's less than half an hour - give or take a minute - to go. 

**Author's Note:**

> there's probably gonna be a chapter two?  
idk, comment if you like. mention some bad grammar if you see it: i wrote most of this at 1 AM!


End file.
